


Secrets Don't Always Remain Hidden, Especially If Your Name Is Robbie Rotten!

by Bruce_Jender



Series: Contingency [1]
Category: LazyTown
Genre: Alpha/Beta/Omega Dynamics, Basically Sportacus is rude, Fae Robbie Rotten, Fluffy chairs are the best, I'm in college and I'm avoiding my responsibilities by writing this instead, Idk what I'm doing with my life, M/M, Mating Cycles/In Heat, My First Fanfic, Other, Robbie just wants to masterbate unbothered, have no clue what to do, omega robbie, send help, sorta - Freeform, want to continue
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-04-19
Updated: 2017-04-19
Packaged: 2018-10-20 20:28:21
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings, No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,973
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/10670184
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Bruce_Jender/pseuds/Bruce_Jender
Summary: One mistake made by the pharmacy, and all the years of keeping his status under wraps, is quickly exposed to the entire town.  Now to make this worst Sportadork has to ruin his fun too. Or does he?





	Secrets Don't Always Remain Hidden, Especially If Your Name Is Robbie Rotten!

**Author's Note:**

> I'm avoiding writing a 12 page paper. So I did this in like an hour instead. Sorry for any grammar mistakes. This is probably going to be a one-shot. I'll try to make more, but if I'm not inspired then sorry. Welp I hope you like it.

Robbie knew he was going to get stabbed in the back one day. Either literally from one of his father's 'associates' coming back for something his father owed them or by one of the kids tricking him to eat healthy. He just never  **EVER** thought it’d be by his local pharmacy.   
  
In a purely metaphorical sense of course—in the physical sense, it left him with was an ache in his body, a sharp spike in temperature, his normally hidden wings were out, fluttering sensually in hopes of attracting a mate, and a string of semi-incoherent thoughts ravaged his mind. Oh, and speaking of ravaged—he wouldn’t mind getting fucked over right now, that’d be.  **UGH—**   
  
See? This is exactly what he meant.   
  
“Goddamn…fucking pills—ah-ahhn!” Screw the pharmacy. They must’ve sold him defective suppressants. He knew he should've just made his own. But instead he went against his better judgement and blindly trusted the pharmaceutical companies, thinking they knew what they were doing  **-BLEK** . He's never trusting blindly again! He squeezed his eyes shut as another wave of arousal coiled in his gut, a very annoying part of him begging for release to ease the heat.   
  
Heat.   
  
God, he was going to have a rough one. After years of staving them off through medication, it finally came to bite him in the ass; he hates them. He hates how they made him feel like fire was thrumming through his veins, burning the vessels beneath his skin as his body greedily lusted for someone, anyone, to fill the emptiness that seemed to amplify with every flash of desire to be taken and claimed—preferably with a thick, long—   
  
“F-fuck!” A mewl escaped his lips, the fingers in his ass and the hand on his cock no longer enough to bring him towards satisfying relief. Being fae did nothing more than drive his heat at an almost unnatural intensity. Sweat clung to his skin, hazy grey eyes filled with a feverish daze narrowed in annoyance as he scrambled out of his chair onto shaky legs and made his way across the room towards the hidden closet. The coolness of the bunker on his naked skin made him even more aware of his feverish temperature. Along the arduous journey across the room, Robbie caught himself along the fine lines of pulsing excitement and crushing mortification. Don’t get him wrong—he never hated being an Omega.   
  
He just hated the things that came with it.   
  
Still, heats were circumvented with the right preparations although not totally unavoidable, at least for the sake of his reproductive health. Like Robbie gave a shit about that. Social hierarchy should have been a major factor in his train of thought, but even that didn’t matter to him anymore. As a male Omega, he hadn’t stuck out in a positive manner. He had always remained unbowed to Alphas and often mistaken for a Beta for his tall stature. Not a lot of Alphas were a fan of a mate that easily tower over them. He never felt the need to correct them, not because he wanted to bury his nature away out of shame, but merely because it was way too much effort to their expectations of him.   
  
No…those things weren’t what he hated about being an Omega at all. And when Robbie retrieved the box buried in the back of his closet, he still couldn’t tell whether the flutter in his stomach was from anticipation or nausea.   
  
His mouth went dry at the too-familiar feel of ribbed silicon as his slick-stained fingers traced the outline of the purple phallus inside. Robbie groaned as the rapid and delicate sensations in his stomach kicked it up a notch and started banging his kidneys to get his ass in gear to quell the annoyance that was his sex drive.   
  
But during his heats, he just didn’t like what he became.   
  
In a purely metaphorical sense, anyways.   
  
He quickly made his way back to his chair and positioned the toy at his entrance. He balanced his legs on the arms of his chair, and raised his hips so that he was comfortably hovering above the cushion, only to avoid getting any slick on the fur of his beloved chair. Because now, in his wake, was a desperate Omega panting and moaning as his lonely excuse of a love-life burned and stretched his walls at a sinfully delicious pace, friction and size filling him so wonderfully as he hit his sweet-spot in practiced, impatient frenzy mere seconds after mewling at the sensation of being completely full, hips moving in a sloppy but powerful rhythm against the toy, the primal thoughts of  _ more, more, please, Alpha—give more, harder, harder, feels so good, don’t stop, don’t ever stop, claim, mark, yours, yoursyoursYOURSYOURS—! _ as a conjured voice in a deep baritone mindlessly praised him for being such a good little Omega, opening up for him so nicely, body tight and greedy as it hugged his cock so well, making such lewd little noises as his pretty little hole was violated and worshiped at the same time for his Alpha’s use, teasing him for being a slut for the pleasure only an Alpha could provide, the salacious bliss of being wholly claimed, owned—   
  
_ Mated. _   
  
And he ached for it: hands pushing him down, the guttural groans and hisses against his ear, the scorching heat of a body above his, the sensation of surrender pulsing from the marrow of his bones to the feverish rouge on his cheeks as their bodies would move in animalistic want, teeth digging into the flesh of his shoulder and neck, bites and bruises littering his skin as a claim for all to see _ —fingers teasing and tongues playing and lips kissing like sparks of lightning across the planes of his body, the sensation of being dominated, cared for, loved— _   
  
_ Belonging. _   
  
And in that damn moment, Robbie started to regain himself. Because no. It never mattered, not once, that each heat left an empty ache in his chest (and his ass) at his status as an unmarked and untouched Omega. It didn’t matter that he had been too smart, too unique to be picked from a crowd, never an Omega whose attention Alphas would clamor for because he never really gave them the time of day either. He had more important thing to worry about, like surviving foster care.   
  
None of that mattered because Robbie didn’t need an Alpha, didn’t need anyone to take care of him during the worst of heats or hold him through the bitter loneliness that crept like shadows as his hormones betrayed his body in the most unforgiving ways. He didn’t need someone to hold him at night and make him feel safe through a wordless touch, a comfortable warmth. He grew up independent, to be able to protect himself through dangers and disasters, through chaos and storms. He didn’t need to tie his existence to anyone else. He could easily live without it.   
  
He could have also really lived without the sound of his hatch opening, a series of frantic beeping, and the call of “Robbie are you ok?” echoing through the room with the dramatic effect of something straight out of a horror flick. It all happened so quickly that Robbie wasn’t sure whether to stop what he was doing or to curse every deity he knew.   
  
The appearance of his brightly colored rival before him should have also been prolonged to fit the mood of inexplicable dread that Robbie was currently registering; or at the very least, Sportacus should have stalled long enough for Robbie to stop fucking himself with a dildo.   
  
_ Oh…he was still masturbating wasn’t he. _ __  
__  
_ Damn it all. _   
  
It also didn’t help that the blue elf had gone stock-still after releasing a noise reminiscent of a whimper. And with Sportacus just standing there, slack-jawed, mouth hanging wide open, and bright blue eyes filled with confusion and something else. Lust? Disgust? Shock? Robbie wasn't exactly sure what he saw, but he really didn't want to find out either. So, the only reasonable thing Robbie could do at the moment was absolutely freak. “This isn’t a free show!  **GET THE FUCK OUT!”**   
  
Had Robbie been a regular omega, he would have missed the way Sportacus had all but teleported out of the lair due to the sheer speed the elf had to be going to clear the premises. And had Robbie been any other omega, he would not have thrown a wrench at his machinery, with such strength that crashes could be heard, in a fit of anger as he asserted his right to work off his heat in peace.   
  
__ Goddamn it all. 

__ ___________________________________________________   
  
A week since Robbie lost himself in a torrent of primal desires and prejudiced physiology. A week since he sent Sportacus running for the hills. Now all he had to show for it was a long list of mechanics in desperate need of repair. Including his beloved cake maker.   
  
Hopefully, today would be like any other day. Maybe.   
  
After all, Robbie supposed it would happen sooner or later—that someone would discover his nature. It was all about timing and luck—and those were something he was awful at and figured it was something that was unlikely to change anytime soon. But just as well, he supposed he simply wouldn’t care for it.   
  
Or so, he tried to tell himself.   
  
Because this was different. This was different in ways Robbie couldn’t voice and in ways he wouldn’t dare dwell on. Because something—something in him just knew that Sportacus was a goddamn fucking Alpha and the fact he caught Robbie in the midst of his heat, panting and moaning like a bitch, trembling and desperate for a cock to fill him—   
  
A wave of nausea hit him hard. He never cared for anyone knowing about his nature. That never mattered to him. If they treated him differently, derided him for his unappealing characteristics to Alphas, that was fine too. Fuck them he's perfection. It never mattered to him and his above average intelligence made sure that none of that would ever matter to him. He was an Omega. It’s who he was and something he can’t change. Even if he were given the choice, he wouldn’t.   
  
So then why did it feel like he had just disappointed the blue kangaroo?   
  
Felt like he had outright lied to him, felt like he did something wrong. Was it because Sportacus had forced the title of best friend upon his shoulders without knowing millennia of hierarchy that would have had Robbie bowing at every Alphas feet? Not to mention the hatred shared between their kindred species.   
  
No, it wasn’t that either.   
  
It was because, now, Sportacus should realize that Robbie isn’t what he expected at all.   
  
From his bad eating habits, to his reluctance to participate in any physical activity, to his rude disposition, to his biological nature, and now his newly discovered heritage. They all made up who Robbie is. And how many more times would it be before ‘surprising’ and ‘unconventional’ changed to ‘disgraceful’ and ‘disappointment’?   
  
It was a strange sensation, like gyres beneath ocean waves, a maelstrom beneath the depths. Of emotions he hadn’t expected to feel in a long time as he had been swept beneath the tides of apathy. He knew their names, scented and tasted them in the air of years long gone. Anxiety, apprehension, worry, guilt…   
  
But not shame. Never shame.   
  
Guilt is what you feel when you have done something wrong. Shame is when you were what was wrong.   
  
There was simply no room for it.   
  
So the evidence had been washed and carefully hidden away, as a freshly showered Robbie, in loose pajamas, laid upon his chair for a much needed nap. 


End file.
